


a candle at my chest, and a head on his knee

by writevale



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Evil Bastard Husbands, Heavy Petting, If you stop your husband being murdered in his sleep it probably does mean you like him, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Murder, no beta we die at our own hand, sorry elias I don't make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writevale/pseuds/writevale
Summary: Elias Bouchard would like his beauty sleep. Keeping Peter alive isprobablyworth getting out of bed for.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 34
Kudos: 260





	a candle at my chest, and a head on his knee

**Author's Note:**

> title from: night terror by laura marling

Elias often thought that he'd made a mistake with his choice of life partner. Perhaps, he should have eschewed the Lukas family's offer of vast, repeated payments to The Institute and, instead, found a wealthy and attractive Avatar of The End to exploit. He had it on good authority that they slept like the dead. Unlike his husband.

He let the nails he was using to trail through the salt and pepper hair on his husband's chest dig into his skin a little as the great oaf let out a thundering rumble of a snore. It was the only downside of tiring him out the way Elias had that evening, Peter would sleep like a beached walrus. Elias, on the other hand, would not. He sighed loudly, not caring if the sound disturbed his bed partner, and shuffled in closer to his side. If he was going to be such a menace, Peter should expect to have Elias peering up at him all night while he slept: cataloguing the twitches in his face, the slow part of his lips with the tide of his breathing , and comparing the responses to the things Peter was seeing in his dreams.

Tonight, the evening's activities appeared to have had even more of an effect on his husband that usual. When Elias opened his Eye to slip into Peter's subconscious, he found himself in the Captain's chambers on the Tundra, staring at a pale imitation of himself. A pale imitation of himself who was tied by his wrists to the bed frame. The ship lurched and rolled on the choppy waves outside as Peter twisted around from where he was quite intimately engaged with the Other Elias and sighed.

'Peter.'

'G'd, Elias.' The man grunted. His skin was flushed with an exertion the non-imagined Elias had just witnessed first-hand. 'You always show up just as I'm getting into it.'

Elias smiled his most threatening smile. 'Don't mind me, I'm just here to watch.'

'Don't act like you don't like it.' The Other Elias added and hissed as Peter slapped him hard across his buttocks. _That_ , Elias thought, _Is rather telling._ Not as telling as the number of times he'd interrupted Peter's dreams to find him fucking James Wright but, still, Peter's secret exhibitionism kink was rather at odds with how he squirmed if someone dared to notice him. Elias was about to settle down into the Captain's chair, cross his legs in the way that set off Peter's internalised homophobia, and make his husband's skin _crawl_ when something distracted him.

He blinked, closing one set of eyes and opening another. There was someone just outside the house, staring up at the white stucco exterior. Elias rolled away from his husband's supine form, reluctantly letting his hand slip from the man's broad chest to the silk sheets around them. He glanced over to the window and saw it from the outside, multiple round shadows dappling its frame as the streetlight cut through the trees lining the street. Whoever the observer was, they were watching from a pool of shadow. A suspiciously large pool of shadow that, with the City of London's new commitment to safer, well-lit streets, should not exist.

Elias rolled his eyes as he slipped out from under the covers. His useless husband slept on, snuffled snores covering the sound of Elias' bare feet on the polished floorboards. He considered waking him, but Peter startled from sleep like a man stumbling from fog. Bewildered. Barely comprehensible. Useless. Elias was no Leitner, he was hardly going to sit quivering in his library as an entity tried to attack his home. He was certain that Peter's help would be surplus to requirement. Quite certain of it.

In the heat of the moment, Peter had dumped his clothes on their bedroom floor and Elias weaved past a pair of socks and Peter's underwear before plucking his jumper from the floor disdainfully. He tugged it over his head, briefly relishing the scent of sea salt and sandalwood, and huffed as he rolled the sleeves up to free his hands. If this little puppet of The Dark didn't want to find Elias swamped in his husband's clothes then they should have tried calling at a more reasonable hour.

The thick wool of the jumper scratched against Elias' bare thighs as he snuck through the partially open door, hardly making a sound on the thick carpet as he crept across the landing to the top of the stairs. He could See that their house guest had made it inside by opening the letter box and pouring through it as a shadow but, as he stared down to the bottom of the staircase, it was difficult to distinguish between the usual gloom and the pools of darkness with more nefarious purposes. As Elias watched, something started to moving along the floor, a flowing, writhing form that crept up the lip of each stair in a smooth movement, swallowing the dim light from the window as it ascended. It didn't yet seem to be aware of Elias' presence - the lack of basic observational skills the other avatars possessed was a constant source of bafflement (and glee) for the Head of the Magnus Institute - and he drank in its intentions as it wound its way forwards. It wanted Peter, surprisingly. Wanted to slip up through his nostrils and down his throat as he slept and choke him with darkness until he surrendered to it. _An inspired notion, really_ , Elias mused. _I'd love to see you try_.

He stepped forwards, eyes fixed on the bizarrely mobile oil slick climbing his stairs. The creature froze, the shadows on the wall sharpening into tense, jagged outlines. Elias could see through the eyes of the Avatar in their hallway, could taste their confusion as the darkness they had cast began to retreat under Elias' burning gaze. As he descended the stairs and rounded the corner to the hallway they too began to scramble backwards, clumsily reaching for the door handle, the letterbox, anything, in the swirling darkness that had turned against them. Darkness is useless against someone who can see through it.

Their fear was delicious. Elias’ eyes shone out like the headlights of a car on an abandoned country road. He bared his teeth.

'Welcome,' He said. The intruder whimpered and Elias almost sighed. They simply didn't make them the way they used to. 'You picked quite a late hour, but that's fine. Unfortunately, we'll have to keep the party down here. You see, my husband is upstairs and he simply _abhors_ guests.'

A brief taunting with the memory of exactly what happened at their initiation to the People’s Church of the Divine Host had the cloaked figure flapping into the drawing room. Elias followed them, flicking on the lights as he went to really highlight the intruder’s powerlessness. In the light, the figure appeared to be a young man in his twenties, curiously sharp cheekbones decorated with dramatic black make-up. He collapsed to the floor in a heap of twitching velvet, clutching at his face as though covering his eyes could stop the oppressive weight of Elias’ watching.

‘I usually request that clients attend the Institute during business hours if they wish to make a statement.’ Elias lounged back into one of the arm chairs, fingers drumming into the upholstered armrest. ‘But since you’ve made such an effort to get a face to face meeting, it only seems fair that I listen.’

‘No,’ He whispered. Rivulets of that inky fluid dripped from his mouth. ‘Please. No!’

‘ _Talk._ ’

His husband was still snoring soundly when Elias stormed back into the bedroom, flicking on the light switch and pinching the muscle bulk of Peter's shoulder _hard_.

'Ugh, ah! Hm? J- Elias?' Bloody useless. Elias pinched him again. 'Ah - ow! Alright! I'm awake!' He wasn't, not fully. Elias straddled him unceremoniously and gave Peter the full force of his glare as the man squinted up into the light blearily. 'God.' He groaned, 'What time is it?'

'Darling,' Elias sing-songed. The kind of tune that might come out of a music box which has been condemned as too creepy for a child to play with. 'Would you care to explain why a young man from the People's Church of the Divine Host has just tried to break into our humble abode to kill you in your sleep?'

That brought Peter around.

'Wha-? Are you alright?'

Elias gave him the most sardonic look he could manage as Peter blinked fully awake, eyes scanning Elias up and down to check for signs of foul play. 'Obviously.' He drawled.

'Right. Well, uh,' Peter cleared his throat with a cough. He tried to shuffle up the bed but Elias splayed a small hand out on his chest to hold him in place. The sleeve of Peter's jumper slipped down past his wrist and Elias hated the way Peter's eyes flicked to it. Hated the small smile it brought to his lips.

' _Peter_.'

'Yes. Well, Elias, the thing is,' He punctuated with a wide yawn, 'I suspect that you already know what happened.'

Elias affected a waspish pout. 'I'd like to hear it from you.’

Peter was right. The intruder had told Elias everything, secrets flowing out of his mouth in great charcoal globules (They would fight over who would clean the carpet in the morning). Elias Watched as they explained how they'd met Peter in a pub in Southampton, just after he'd returned from a long voyage. He'd been very taken with Peter: his broad frame; the way his hands had gone golden from sun exposure but the sliver of skin above his beard was a milky white from being hidden under his Captain's hat; his shyness. He'd been taken with his shyness most of all, a genial refusal to engage in conversation that reminded him of the night he'd spoken to the darkness and, finally, a voice had spoken back.

'And, _as I'm sure you know_ , I offered him a wager: I'd attend one of their little cult gatherings if his sister could survive a trip on the Tundra.'

'Hm.' Elias dragged a fingernail down Peter's sternum, unimpressed. He could feel the terror rolling up the stairs from the drawing room, where their guest was reliving every second of their sister's nightmare. Peter's pupils were dilated despite the glare of the chandelier and Elias knew he could taste it too, the fear of someone ripe with grief and sinking into the reality of their loneliness. That, or he was enjoying the press of Elias' bare legs against his stomach more than he would usually admit to. One of Peter's cold hands slipped up through the overhanging sleeve of his jumper to catch Elias' fingers and lace them together. He smiled as Elias allowed himself to be caught.

'I had no intention of going.'

'Oh, Peter, as if I would even consider permitting it.'

'Well,' He tugged Elias down until their lips were close enough to brush as he spoke, 'Aren't I just so, very, incredibly, lucky to have you around to keep a beady, little eye on me?' He made to push himself upwards for a peck but Elias pulled back, lips curled down with distaste. Elias sighed, deep and faux-weary, before rolling off his husband and slipping back under the covers in a smooth movement. Peter's laugh was as low and rumbly as one of his snores as the shorter man rolled onto his side away from him.

'Don't play with your food too much, one would prefer some semblance of rest tonight, Peter.'

Elias didn't even think of sleep. He was far too caught up in the Knowledge of how Peter was torturing the fool who'd tried to assassinate him, one foot dangling close to the edge of the bed in case he needed to dart out of it and save his Captain from his own greed. And, _oh_ , Elias' lips were fixed into a razor-sharp grin, Peter could be _cruel_ when he was in the mood for it. There was something incredibly satisfying about knowing just how dangerous Peter could be. The man had no idea just how much his reluctance to hurt Elias in that way betrayed the depth of his affection for him. Elias relished it.

He let his face fall into a soft and perfect imitation of sleep as he heard Peter's heavy tread outside the landing. The door opened with a creak, the light was extinguished and the mattress sagged as Peter rolled back into bed. The unnaturally cold fog of his breath tickled the short strands of hair at the back of Elias' neck as Peter threw an arm over Elias' skinny waist, large fingers curling into the fabric of his jumper possessively. Elias didn't need eyes in the back of his head to know that Peter was smiling as he pressed his lips against the exposed line of Elias' neck.

'Come now, Elias. Don’t pretend to be asleep.' Elias ignored him, even as Peter's hand slipped under the fabric of his jumper, roaming across his tense stomach, up to brush across his nipples and then lower. Teasing. 'Well, my angry little eyeball, you'll be thrilled to know that I've successfully dealt with the intruder and they won't be a threat to you anymore.' Peter squeezed the curve of his ass indulgently. 'You're welcome.'

Elias' hand shot out in the dark to seize Peter's wrist. 'I know you have your dense moments, dear, but I think we both know who _dealt with the intruder_ , Peter.' He felt Peter's laugh all the way down his spine.

'Mm.' He conceded, shaking his hand free from Elias's grip to grab at his hip bone. Elias wriggled despite himself as Peter sunk his teeth into his shoulder with just enough pressure for the threat of pain to be felt. 'God, what _did_ you do to him, Elias? I think he almost _wanted_ to escape into The Lonely.' Elias shrugged and hissed through his exhale as Peter bit down harder. 'What?' Peter murmured, 'None of that spark for your beloved husband who you could have lost forever?' Elias considered that. Peter had been an intermittent constant since his genuine Jonah Magnus days, a book he could shut whenever he desired, knowing that the pages would always fall open to the spot he was reading last whenever he deigned to open it again. Losing him would be inconvenient.

'Ah, yes. What would I do without your sparkling conversation and clumsy handjobs? I might simply perish.' Elias felt a coiling glee as Peter's hand went limp on his hip and slipped out to rest, once more, in the excess fabric of his jumper. Perhaps he'd genuinely upset him. Elias could sleep happily then.

'Elias?'

'Yes, Peter?'

'You do look _very_ sweet in my clothes.'

Elias sighed deeply, rolling over so he was chest to chest with Peter and squinting at the glint of his teeth in the dark. 'Do you remember what happened the last time you said that?'

'Mm? No, Elias, perhaps you should remind me.' It was a cheap move, heavy-handed in a way that only Peter could successfully utilise to get Elias' pulse racing. Elias smirked through the gloom as he treated his husband to a quick replay of a previous punishment.

Begrudgingly, the sulking Darkness braced itself for the show.

**Author's Note:**

> eesh writing this was a fight from beginning to end. I have so many ideas for this pairing but I think I need some more practice first!! 
> 
> thanks so much for reading, I'd love to know what you thought!


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